Page 52 of The Reluctant Roommate

“Right.” Morgan chewed her lip again. “We’ll think of something.”

Heidi scooted closer on the couch and rested her head on Morgan’s shoulder. “Right now, all I can think of is how comfortable and cozy I am with this fire. We were going to walk off dinner, but I think this couch and me have bonded. We’re partners now, and we don’t go anywhere without the other.”

“We haven’t had pie yet.” Morgan glanced out the window. “And it’s snowing harder.”

“It is?” Heidi bounced up and went over to the window.

A chill replaced the warmth on Morgan’s side where she’d been.

“Oh! Big, fat flakes too. Maybe they’ll make snowballs.”

“Maybe. But no fights today. I’m too comfortable.”

“We needn’t have bothered shoveling the path. And I don’t think your snowplow method will work with this much snow. There must be a foot already.”

Morgan watched the flakes whirling out of the sky. “There’ll be more by morning. You might get your snow day after all.”

Heidi turned from the window. Her top had ridden up, and her jeans gaped where she’d undone them earlier. A slight belly curve showed in the gap. Morgan traced the line lower with her gaze. Heidi’s thighs weren’t slender—they curved pleasantly—and her flaring hips begged to be gripped, for Morgan to pull Heidi flush against her own body.

Morgan froze and looked away. Dangerous thoughts. Especially when in a few days, she and Heidi would be sharing a motel room. But Heidi’s hips—and when she turned back to the window, the enticing curve of her ass—drew Morgan’s gaze like superglue.

Heidi was definitely dangerous to Morgan’s willpower.

Chapter 25

Jenga Queen

Heidi returned to the couch. “We should eat pie. All delicious looking. Cover it with whipped cream.” She stared at the flickering fire. “And us all cozy in front of the fire, under a throw, if we want to get the whole winter experience.”

An image of the two of them cuddled like a pair of sleeping puppies under the throw flashed through Morgan’s mind. Heidi’s softness against her more angular body. Complementary. Hard and soft. Angles and curves. Secrets and sunshine. She swallowed hard. There were reasons her attraction to Heidi was not a good thing.

Yet, Heidi had been there for her when Morgan had confided about Linda. How hard would it be to tell her the truth about her work?

She slammed that door shut. Too hard. That wasn’t what the Favolas did. The veneer of perfection remained in place, despite the turmoil that churned beneath.

Heidi’s question still hung in the air. Yes to the pie. With whipped cream. But no to the throw and snuggling. She pushed herself off the couch. “Let’s do pie.”

“Let’s.” Heidi, too, got up, and together they went to the kitchen.

Morgan took the pumpkin pie from the fridge, found a knife and two plates.

Heidi watched with rapt attention as Morgan sliced two medium pieces and heaped whipped cream on both. She handed one plate and a fork to Heidi.

“I’ve never had pumpkin pie,” she said. “Before I came here, I thought the pumpkin would be sliced, like apple slices in pie, not pureed. She took a mouthful, hesitated. “It’s kinda weird. It doesn’t taste of pumpkin, that’s for sure.”

“This from the person who considers Vegemite an actual food group? I’m not sure your vote is valid.”

Heidi ate another bite. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. And weird doesn’t mean something is no good. People think I’m weird. And if you want something natural-weird, look at kangaroos. Cute and furry, birth live young that are an inch long, carry their young around in a pouch like a shopping bag until they can be persuaded to leave home. Kick like a mule. Hop like they’re on springs. No, weird is good in my books.” She ate another mouthful. “I like that it’s not too sweet.”

“That’s me,” Morgan said. “I always get ones that are lower in sugar.”

“Well, I like it. So, bad luck, Favola. You don’t get to eat my half.”

They took their pie back to the couch.

Morgan looked at the wine glasses, the bottle, and Heidi’s discarded layers that were scattered around. Her fingers twitched to clean up, but with a sigh, she relaxed into the couch. There was a time for housework, and this wasn’t it.

Darkness was falling, but still the snowflakes whirled through the glow from the streetlights outside. She should close the drapes, but it was mesmerizing to watch them. A ritual she’d done since she’d been a kid. She’d pressed her nose to the glass and tried to count them. Then her mom would scold her for leaving a nose print on the window. Morgan looked again at the discarded glasses. Her mom would have kittens at the mess. And, to be fair, even a couple of weeks ago, so would she.